Drink of Me (25 page)

He frowned. “Out with it, Drago. What troubles you?”

“It’s not my place to say, My Prime,” he responded politely.

Reule grabbed up the robe Drago had draped on the end of the bed, tying it on. He faced the attendant once more. “Don’t play the demure servant with me, Drago. We both know it’s horseshit.”

Drago turned, his almost black eyes gleaming with hard repressed emotion. “May I speak freely?”

“As you dare,” Reule said, his permission just as tight as the request.

“Or as you do,” Drago countered instantly. “How can you possibly take a woman like
that
to your bed? It’s shameful and a disgrace! You completely disregard—” Drago broke off with a squeak when his Prime was suddenly nose to nose with him, a low, vicious growl of warning turning over in his throat.

“You watch your tongue regarding Mystique, valet, or you will find yourself feasting on it!”

“I won’t, and I beg your pardon, My Prime, but how dare you treat such a fine woman in so low a manner! Tumbling her like a common…common…well, she’s not like the women you’re used to! She’s good and caring and she has no idea how to handle a male of your experience!”

Reule snorted out a laugh. She’d been handling him better than fine since the instant she’d first looked at him with those diamond eyes of hers. The Packleader had to blink through his surprise as Drago flushed bright red with indignation. The man’s dignity had flown out of the window, as had his unswerving loyalty, apparently, as he prepared to furiously defend the honor of…

Of a foundling girl who had clearly made her mark. At first he’d thought Drago was insulting her, calling her common or beneath his notice, but in truth, he realized with no little shock, the valet was acting as though the opposite were true.

“Drago,” he said sharply, cutting off further retort with a raised hand. “Do you think so ill of your Prime? You’ve known me for much of my life. When have I ever taken an innocent girl—a fertile innocent, at that—to bed without regard to the consequences?”

“Well, I must say that was why I was so shocked when I saw…” Drago blinked. “Well, then, you mean you’ve considered the consequences?”

“Happily,” Reule said dryly. “It’s good to know my honor is so easily doubted when it’s supposed to be the mainstay of my rule.”

“Oh, but I—! That is to say, I didn’t mean…Well, yes I suppose I did, but I knew you were terribly attracted to her, and she to you, and I thought perhaps it just got out of control…perhaps in your grief. The entire Pack has been acting so out of spirits.”

“They are grieving,” Reule said carefully. “We’ve never lost Pack blood before.”

“It shows,” Drago said gravely. “Rye isn’t himself at all, contentious and full of rage. Delano ceaselessly stalks and prowls every hall and every chamber open to him. Saber walks the walls and rides sentry without sleep. Chayne won’t leave his quarters even though Mystique finished healing him two days ago. And Darcio…”

“What of Shadow?” Reule demanded.

“Merely the fact that you don’t know should tell you something, My Prime. When has he ever left your side willingly?”

He’d seen none of them for days, only felt their anger and grief as it ran through them all in a ribbon of anguish that flowed in repetitive whips. He’d closed his thoughts to them, and theirs to himself, unable to bear the added intensity it would bring. He was intending to change his isolation now that the Depths had concluded. Being solitary, yet together, was a normal way of grieving. He hadn’t even considered Darcio’s absence. Or anyone else’s, for that matter.

“Damn selfish of me,” he muttered. “Seems like a lot has been going on in my keep right under my ignorant nose.”

“You’re not the only one,” Drago said with pointed dryness, glancing at the mussed bed.

Reule chuckled, casting off the pall of worry. He would straighten his house up over the next week, starting tonight. “Relax, old friend. I plan to keep her very close and in just as high esteem as you apparently do. I’m glad to have your reaction, truth be told. I was wondering how others would accept our relationship.”

“Do you care?” Drago queried.

“Care? Of course. Worry? Not in the least. It’s a subject not open for debate, and adjustment will come in time. I have faith in my people.”

“Well, I know you’ll have little to no effort to make amongst the commoners,” Drago remarked.

“Oh?” he asked as he moved into the adjoining bath and began to wash up and get dressed. He needed to see the Pack before guests arrived.

“Yes. My lady Mystique has been making quite an impression these past few days. She cured the farmer’s boy Stebban and he’s already gaining weight. She’s been working steadily in the infirmary ever since. Word of mouth, I suppose. Like wild flatland fire, My Prime. Though you might want to have a closer care for her if she’s going to be…um…”

“Prima, Drago. You can say it. She will be Prima. Before the end of this month, if I have any say about it, and I think I do. And she will have a Prima Shadow in her Pack first thing, trust me.”

“Oh, yes, a wise idea. But I was more concerned with her health.”

Drago looked up when there was a soft clatter and his Prime came to the entrance between bedroom and bath, half shaved, and narrowed his hazel eyes on him. “Would you be so kind as to explain that?”

“Of course, My Prime. Our future Prima has no heart for turning people away. She is with her patients from dawn until late at night. When she retires, she’s exhausted and can barely stand. Para and I have had to walk her to her bed between us these past three nights.”

“Are there so many sickly among my people?” Reule looked flabbergasted at the idea of the powerful Sánge being so afflicted.

“They are when the fires burn them. Then she heals Chayne on top of a long day. Winter comes, the elders have various physical complaints. Many ailments have gone long neglected because of that man she rightly labeled a charlatan.”

“And he will pay for that, I promise you,” Reule muttered angrily as he returned to his grooming. “She didn’t work today. I found her on the battlements.”

“She takes an hour twice a day to escape onto the battlements. I think it overwhelms her, all the healing and the mourning. She clears her head and then returns.”

“You seem to know a great deal about this.”

Drago was no fool. He tried not to smile as he recognized the jealousy lurking in his master’s tone. “Para keeps close to her, and I talk to Para. I often visit and try to help.”

“And your suggestion? I know you have one, so don’t even think of hedging.”

“Just that you limit the gate. No callers for healing after dusk or before a decent hour.”

It was a fair and simple solution. But Reule would have to discuss it with Mystique first. He had no intention of making decisions that would affect her without consulting her first. Playing Prime over her, however much he had a right by birth to do so, wouldn’t be a way of gaining the trust he so craved.

“Thank you for the information. You’re right, she wouldn’t turn anyone away and would work herself into a coma if she thought it would help someone. I think it might be wise to find her a promising apprentice as well. She knows much that has nothing to do with her naturopathic power. She has a great deal of knowledge, and passing it on would eventually ease the medical burden from her shoulders.”

“The fewer her burdens, the better. Being Prima will be burden enough.”

“I don’t deny that,” Reule agreed grimly. “But I’d lay fair odds that she’s up to the task.”

“I’d rather run like a loon through a Jakal camp than take a bet against that.”

After Reule had called Para and Drago together and told them about the significant changes he’d require before guests arrived from the city, he strode down the corridor to the private areas in the keep and entered the Packmate common room. They felt him coming, just as he felt them, so they were all on their feet by the time he came within sight. He stopped on the threshold of the wide room and studied them each in turn. Every member stood before his favored chair. The only empty chairs belonged to him and Amando.

Without any delay, he strode sharply into the room, his high-polished black boots snapping against the stone of the flooring as he grabbed for the golden ceremonial dagger at his waist and pulled it free of its sheath. He walked straight up to the first empty chair, knelt down on a single knee, and with a shout and all of his strength, he stabbed the blade into the seat belonging to their fallen comrade. The wood and cushioning shuddered and cracked under the mighty blow, but in the end the dagger remained embedded deep, jeweled hilt gleaming in the firelight as the Prime of Jeth stood up tall and backed away. He clasped his hands before him, widened his stance, and bowed his head. He heard the Pack do the same, and silence prevailed for a long minute as they each wished Amando on his way to the warmth of the House of the Lord and Lady.

The Sánge Prime had given up his dagger. It was the highest of honors, and one that every Packmate would wish for himself when the time came.

Reule turned then to face them, looking them all over with keen, judging eyes, eyes that refused to miss any of the details, large or small, that he’d overlooked in the Depths of his grief.

“Shadow, I expect you back at my side,” he said pointedly to Darcio, cocking a brow until his Packmate nodded. “Chayne, are you well?”

“As can be,” he said quietly, his subdued response indicative of his ordeal.

“Very well. As you all may know, my relationship with the outlander woman, Mystique, has taken on a new cast. I have requested that she become Prima and she has accepted.”

Everyone, save Darcio, looked and felt as though he’d just walked into another electrical trap. Each was stunned speechless, except Rye, who burst out with, “Lord damn me! Reule, are you mad?”

Rye’s response was apparently even more shocking than Reule’s announcement because all attention swung to the heir. If they felt as though they’d missed a page in the story, they weren’t alone. Reule felt as though he’d risen from a three-day coma. He ignored the outburst, even though his teeth did come tightly together as he fought his temper.

“This isn’t open to discussion or debate,” Reule said instead, addressing them all in the cold tone of a ruler who would let one insult slide, but wouldn’t allow another. “The joining will be announced this night in Amando’s memory, and the service will be performed by month’s end. Your future Prima is inexperienced and an outlander still familiarizing herself with our culture. I expect you all to assist her just as you have been. To that end, Chayne, I’m temporarily titling you Prima Shadow.” Reule drew the chain of office from the inside of his jacket and stood before Chayne, holding it out to him on his fingertips.

Chayne’s stunned expression was priceless. It made Reule’s lips curve up.

“My Prime—” Chayne paused long enough to clear the startled rasp from his throat. “I am honored, but…I am beyond honored,” he swore, making certain Reule felt the truth of it, “but I’m not at my peak health yet. You must prefer—”

“What I prefer,” Reule interrupted, “is that a man who owes her his life take on the duty of guarding hers. He will be best compelled not to fail her.”

“But Rye also—”

“The Prime Blade has already expressed his feelings on the matter enough to satisfy me that he wouldn’t be the best choice.” The Pack shifted uncomfortably as hostility jolted through them. As polite as the phrasing was, Reule’s displeasure was keen. “At half your health, you’d do twice as much to protect her.”

The insult wasn’t even veiled and, moments after Chayne lifted his new emblem of office from Reule’s hands and exchanged it for the one he now wore, Reule turned the full brunt of his icy displeasure on Rye.

“After sunrise you and I will meet. You will recall, I pray, that every peaceful minute earned between now and then is by the grace of my lady’s merciful request.” He turned to the others. “Seating has been rearranged to accommodate these changes. Now, shall we lay our comrade to peace?”

Mystique’s heart was pounding, her anxiety level peaking as it had earlier that day in Reule’s arms, but she maintained control over her breathing by sheer force of will. Para stood with her in the vestibule where she waited, fussing over the way her gown settled and the rubies and gold that dripped from her hair. Mystique could only struggle within herself for calm. She didn’t know why meeting with Reule’s courtiers should rattle her so. She wasn’t cowed in any way by the nobles she would be meeting tonight. Her natural confidence assured her that she would eventually find her footing. Still, she couldn’t shake a feeling of inexplicable icy dread.

She shook away the hyperactive apprehension, focusing instead on good things, things that made her feel content and secure, to soothe herself.

Mystique smiled as she shifted position and realized she felt contentment in every tender place on her body, and security in the way Reule’s scent lingered on her skin as though indelibly placed there in their passion. If that weren’t enough of a claim on her, Reule had sent her a large ruby teardrop pendant etched with his insignia, which she now wore proudly around her throat. Mystique smiled at his territorialism. It was all about marking her for all his world to see. In his culture, this was a lavish honor, proclaiming her of incomparable value to him.

She blinked back sudden moisture in her eyes as she realized that she knew, even without actual memories, that she’d never been so treasured in her life. Now she would be close by Reule’s side as he interred the companion of a lifetime. She would support and strengthen him in any way possible. She only wished she could have done more for Amando.

The vestibule doors opened and she turned. She saw him leading his Pack into the receiving room, and her breath flew from her body. He was so incredibly beautiful. Dressed in full formal regalia, he looked vibrant and stately in the red, black, and gold clothing, but it was all Reule behind the emanation of confidence and power. She was sure she had never witnessed anyone as dazzling and as incredibly sexy as he looked to her just then. Her spirit felt as though it were floating up out of her body when she saw his eyes light with pleasure upon seeing her.

She’d made no false promises when she’d tempted him with how exotic her dress was. On her body it came alive with passion and purpose, as well as secret sensual promises made just between them. His eyes fell quickly to his gift to her, forcing him to swallow back a groan as the pendant’s promise was also fulfilled. He’d envisioned it lying in stark relief against her pale skin, nestled at the very top of her cleavage, and he’d been so right. The gem lay in that delectable little spot, twitching almost imperceptibly with every beat as her heart jittered wildly.

He felt her untamed response to him, and it had the power to undo all his staid focus and control. He reached for her, forgoing the chaste propriety of clasping hands. He grasped her upper arms and swiftly hauled her against his aching body. He kissed her, oblivious to their audience, stealing her taste like the eager thief that he was. A red-gloved hand slid around his neck and he felt the flex of her strong fingers as she held him to her. Her sweet tongue swept into his mouth, seeking to be an equal partner, pushing his need to the very limits.

Reule reached up to catch her chin in his hand, and he eased away until they both settled back with sighs and eyes that glowed with unconcluded passion.

“Come,” he said loudly, addressing the room though his gaze remained fixed devotedly on her, “let us warm the memory of a Packmate with honor.”

“Aye,” the rich male voices of the Pack agreed behind him. Then Chayne broke away from the others and moved closer to Mystique while Darcio did the same for Reule.

“
Kébé
, Chayne will be temporarily taking a place at your side as Prima Shadow until you choose your Pack and replace him.”

She turned to look at the proud Packmate, his tall, lean form looking capable; seriousness and pride radiating from his tan eyes. He looked so much more vital now, as though the wounded man had been someone else entirely. This man stood fresh with health, his chestnut hair tied back with a gold and ruby clasp.

In fact, all of the men wore gold and rubies in their hair in one fashion or another. It wasn’t until they walked out to greet the court that she fully realized that it was a mark of royalty. All of the elegantly dressed people, a sea of red and black clothing, wore jewels in their hair, but rubies and gold were nowhere to be found save on the Packmates.

And on her.

It sent home the understanding of her position unlike anything else, and her spine, already straight within her corset, went even straighter with the swell of delighted pride she felt. Of course, it made her the center of a lot of stares and the subject of many whispers behind hands and fans, but that was to be expected. She was an outlander in royal regalia. That would incite gossip from all corners of the room, even from those who tended not to gossip. Reule made no announcements; apparently the sight of her on his arm was all the announcement that was needed.

“Liandra. Justas.” Reule first greeted a pretty young woman and then a man with familiar eyes. “I greet you with warmth, and share my heart.” The solemn greeting came with a clasp of hands. Reule brought their linked hands to his chest over his heart, locking eyes with them until the gleam of tears appeared. “Mystique, this is Amando’s brother, Justas, and his sister, Liandra. My friends, your future Prima, Mystique.”

Reule watched Mystique as she reached out with both hands and clasped the sister’s in one and the brother’s in the other. “Our loss is profound. Your brother was the sort of man who made enduring impressions. It took only moments for Amando to win the heart of a foundling girl who felt lost among such great men. I will be forever grateful that I knew him, and forever regretful it was too brief an acquaintance.”

Reule’s feelings of pride and satisfaction emanated into the surrounding crowd, but he was unable and even unwilling to suppress them. He wanted everyone to know the esteem in which he held her. He had great cause to be proud of her. Amando’s siblings were quite speechless. Reule felt the jumble of their emotions and surprise. They were no more used to acceptance and warmth from outlanders than he had been. But she’d worked her magic, and Liandra sobbed softly as Justas bowed his head graciously.

“Thank you, my lady. Those are kind and thoughtful words.”

“Come, Liandra,” Mystique said gently, reaching to draw her close, moving an arm of comfort around her shoulders. “There’s much I don’t know about Amando, and you are just the one to tell me. Who better than a sister to know her brother best? Let’s talk while we find Para. She’ll lead us to fresh water for your face.”

She had no empathic power to speak of, but she sensed Liandra hadn’t wanted to make an emotional spectacle of herself tonight. Their withdrawal gave the woman privacy and a chance to recover her dignity.

Liandra looked up as she patted her face dry in the private vestibule a short time later, her fern green eyes bright with freshly shed tears. Her beautiful blond hair, swept up into a twist that seemed to make dozens of intricate loops, was as gold as the chains she wore in it. It was decorated with onyx to match the smoky black-gray velvet of her mourning gown. A red scarf around her tiny waist was all she wore of the royal colors, a tribute to her dead brother’s chosen profession.

“You’re like no outlander I’ve ever seen,” she said directly, her startling green eyes direct and honest. “Where are you from?”

“That’s a very involved sort of story,” Mystique admitted, “and one I’ll be glad to share, but I know Reule is waiting for us so we may lay Amando’s body to rest in the royal mausoleum.”

“Please.” Liandra reached out and clasped her hand tightly, clearly looking for support. “Will you stay with me? Justas is so…He’s my brother and I love him, but he will need time to shake off the Depths before I can depend on his support. What you said took me by surprise and that’s why I cried, but I just know your support will be helpful tonight. You’re a woman. You understand.”

“I do.” Mystique squeezed her hand and smiled. “I would be honored. Perhaps if we’re seated close to each other at the banquet, I can tell you how I came to be here.”

“I would like that.”

The Prime and future Prima of Jeth should have sat at the head of the table on the royal dais with Shadow on either side of them. These were the changes Reule had made, giving Mystique the honor due her. The change preserved her comfort as well. Especially since she would have sat next to his heir previously.

However, the future Prima had abandoned him early on, stealing a seat from another in order to sit by Liandra, and the two had been whispering together ever since. Oh, he was eaten up with curiosity, dying to eavesdrop on what had them intermittently so serious and then smothering giggles. But that was the very meaning of light and dark mourning, and he had no right to be nosy. He was merely amazed at how quickly she seemed to make friends of total strangers. She’d had that ability from the outset, he being a prime example.

After the interment, the mood at the banquet had grown increasingly more festive. Conversation buzzed everywhere around him, though no one directly spoke with him. Darcio had given up some time ago when his attention had strayed far too many times to where Mystique sat. Chayne, ever the vigilant one taking his duties seriously, had found a seat in a chair against a nearby wall, just behind his charge.

“Smitten.”

Reule turned his head toward Darcio, who was grinning at him.

“Isn’t that the word for it, My Prime? Smitten? When a man is completely obsessed with a woman to the point of fawning over her every second of the day?”

“It’s possible you’re correct and that is the word for it. However, only men who want to lose important limbs would ever use the word with their Prime.”

“Come now, My Prime,” Darcio chuckled, “be proud of your grand fall from bachelorhood. You wear it well. And so does she.” Reule followed his Shadow’s eyes back to Mystique and found himself smiling as he agreed.

“She’s stunning,” he admitted. “In many ways.”

“This has happened very quickly for you,” Darcio hurriedly continued when Reule scowled at him. “You aren’t the sort of man who doesn’t know his own mind, so I’m not questioning that. Your feelings aren’t to be doubted. The entire Pack is convinced of that as of this afternoon.” Darcio cleared his throat as he hinted at activity which would have been more private had he not been Packleader. “It isn’t so easy to be as certain of her feelings, though,” he remarked. “There’s a turmoil of emotion within her. It overloads
my
senses. Then again, I’m not as strong an empath as the rest of the Pack.”

“She isn’t any easier for me to fathom, I promise you,” Reule said patiently. “She feels things from the past and the present all together. Even she isn’t aware of where one leaves off and the other begins. She had an attack of anxiety earlier and she couldn’t even breathe. Even now I’m not certain if it was my asking her to be Prima that panicked her, or some remembered fear from the past.”

“Perhaps a combination of both. It was selfish of you to place the burden of becoming Prima on her so soon.”

Reule chuckled and cast his friend a sideways glance. “So I told her. But she accepted with enthusiasm. And despite her intermittent confusion, Mystique has proven herself to be a woman of conviction.”

“So I see. She’s already taken to Liandra. But then, Liandra is cut of the same cloth as her brother. Warm, friendly, firm when she needs to be. It amazes me how certain of people Mystique can be with no empathy or telepathy to guide her.”

“She has excellent instincts,” Reule noted. “Mostly when it comes to the motivations and intents of others. Perhaps it’s a ’pathic ability we aren’t aware of. Perhaps not. Few people seem to take her by surprise.”

“Unfortunately, I think much of that is life experience. I suspect she saw the black side of what people can and will do to further their own agendas.”

“Yes. Too much black side, if you ask me.”

Darcio watched carefully as his Prime’s gaze shifted to the sullen face of his heir.

“What has he done?”

“The unforgivable. And yet, she insists I forgive him for Amando’s sake. Not for her own, but for Amando’s and Rye’s own sakes.” Reule shook his head. “Her ways are not my ways, but how can I ignore when she begs me so well?”

“Hmm. How easily we hardened warriors can fall beneath the kiss and caress of a singular woman,” Darcio mused.

“That’s almost as bad as smitten,” Reule warned with a laugh.

“You know, I’d have thought this afternoon would’ve put you in a more contented frame of mind,” Darcio complained good-naturedly.

“Speak to me in the morning. I plan to be far more contented by then.”

Mystique’s head lifted up when the Prime Shadow’s laughter bolted down the length of the table. She looked at Reule with amusement and he gave her a broad wink. Since she could just imagine what the companions were discussing, she blushed red hot and lowered her eyes.

“Beasts,” Liandra declared, snorting at the masculine display. “It’s beyond time there was a woman among them. One who can temper their wicked manners. That Darcio alone has a wild streak as wide as the flatlands.”

“Darcio?” Mystique was incredulous, making Lia laugh.

“Well, perhaps more so in his youth. And with Reule right beside him. Though our Prime was relentlessly serious and responsible when it came to building a home for us, he countered it with quite an untamed aspect. But I shouldn’t be telling tales. He was much younger then.” Liandra reached to squeeze her hand. “He needs something besides his Pack in his life. And he has found it.” Lia sniggered through her nose. “There are a host of disappointed noblewomen here today.”

Liandra lifted her chin in the direction of several groups of women who were milling beyond the tables having whispered discussions behind their fans. Mystique had been aware of their attention, but she’d dismissed it as unimportant.